the only divide

the only divide of
land and water
is the negotiating table,
the coastline,
that fluidly
moves
with the motions
of the moon.

mostly water (poem)

if i could see a drop of rain
from the inside
i would still
never understand
water

even in my bed
at night
my body somehow leaks moisture
and i am left thirsty,
forced to trek from my cocoon
for another drink

in a glass of water
a pencil becomes
a bended ray of light
pointing at impossible angles
and when removed
is again straight
the glass no less changed
than before

water is not the air i breathe
yet it is a part of each breath

water shapes the world
the morning dew from which bees drink,
the slow drip that smooths canyon walls
and hollows mountains,
the summer waterfalls over desert cliffs
the deep springs lapped from the lips of deer
water is more necessary to life
than air

we are born in water, and that is where we will return.
we are not dust turning to dust,
nor ash to ash,
but
we are water turning to water.

when i am near u

when i am near you
the numbers on streets and clocks
are right

the sound of rain
upon the sidewalk
is a complete refrain
to a childhood melody


at night
the stars burn like candles, when
blown,
bow
and tip
their hats

when i hold you in my mind
the expanse of heavens
dreamed in
forlorn ancient texts
reveal themselves
like a vast, turning sky


&

you,
like desert canyon walls,
are a fountain
waiting for rain.

free

if i drop


then it is because i fell from the heights of my mind, freely floated to the bottom of the bottom, the bottom of my heart.


and hear i would ly grand at the bounty of the land grasping at what fist who would hold me like this..


or maybe i've stooped (drooped) to the floor of the sea, looking up at the world who strangely looks down at me..


i am the one in the water but they are behind glass.

like moss

maybe the written word is like moss,
growing everyplace in the forest
that the eye can’t see
unless it is still, and careful…

and the more words i write
the more dirt i make,
soft green tendrils curling
in the shaded forest light
under ferns,

sitting atop mounds and mountains
and reaching around trees,
perched on logs:
afloat on a windspoken rain
drifting down a trickling stream
to be planted subplanted and transplanted
only picked fresh to make a bed
or to offer a drink of caught rainfall;

going where it is allowed to grow old.

the smile at your toes

i love you and i want to
tell you just one wish:
i wish not to be the lover
which you admire so much for
being the very figment of your
imagination, no – i wish to be
nothing above the ordinary, i
would be your steady hand routinely
applying eyeliner with precision
like a painter brushing the ceiling
of a chapel, delicately; i would
be your spice cabinet, utterly normal
yet full of variety and from me
you would choose just what you wanted
for yourself; i would be boring weather,
nothing more than simple rain, covering your head
and
falling at your feet, forming pools
and peering down i would be the smile
at your toes.

be water

Gravity is pulling me down. Keeping me grounded. It is no enemy. If you are a believer in Heaven, it is gravity that will bring Heaven to you. Perhaps the stars in Heaven naturally try to escape our eyes, and, in hurry, look for the nearest hiding spot in the corners of the universe, the corners of our eyes. Dancing with gravity, the stars fall.

Gravity reminds you of where to be: on your feet. Stand, and your strength is in your connection to the ground. No matter where you turn, leap, or stride, the energy you use relies on the steadiness of the earth underneath you. Even the bird accepts gravity.

To fly is not to struggle or to fight. If you’ve seen a bird in flight you know that it does not need to keep flapping its wings to stay in the air. Even the crow knows how to soar. It overcomes gravity because it becomes gravity, and therefore remembers it is gravity. With the acceptance of gravity, it springs from the ground, the branches, the water.

Water knows how to receive gravity with grace. Always falling, streaming, flowing, dripping, water lies in the lowest point. It slips between grains of sand with each wave; it disappears in your hands when you hold on to it too long, slipping through what seems solid.

Float, water keeps you above the surface. Sink, water surrounds you and becomes weight. But remember yourself and in water you learn you to become weightless. You learn you are weightless.